


Desert Birds Soar in the Rain

by Spannah339



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, (to be fair this does start BEFORE episode II), Angst, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Good Parent Jango Fett, Hurt/Comfort, Jango Fett Lives, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Shmi, Romance, Shmi Skywalker Lives, Shmi goes Mum Mode on like /everyone/, Slow Burn, Tatooine Slave Culture, Whump, knowing me there'll probably be:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24769363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Spannah339
Summary: A bounty brings Jango Fett to Tatooine, where a slave woman saves his life and gives him unexpected aid.Shmi Skywalker's life is turned upside-down when a bounty hunter appears and she can't help but help him.Thrown together by the forces of the galaxy, two beings who never should have met find themselves connected. Two parents, reminding each other how to love. Two broken people, healing together.And two sons, one waiting eagerly for his father's return, the other somewhere in the galaxy.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Boba Fett & Jango Fett, Boba Fett & Shmi Skywalker, Jango Fett & Anakin Skywalker, Jango Fett/Shmi Skywalker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 165





	Desert Birds Soar in the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey what's up I suck at synopsis! Anyway I finally wrote the first chapter of this, enjoy! More in-depth author's note at the end of the chapter if you get there.

Jango didn't like Tatooine. The suns were too hot, making him feel like he was baking. The sand was irritating and got into all the cracks of his armour. He was left feeling dry, hot, and annoyed. The locals didn't make the place anymore appealing. 

But even Boba’s presence didn’t stop Kamino from growing dull after long periods of time, and even the baking heat from the suns was a welcome change to the endless rain. He had gone altogether too long without wearing the armour for a job, and it was time to change that. 

He only wished the job had been on some other planet. 

The inhabitance of the Mos Espa shot him suspicious looks, giving him a wide berth as they took in his armour and his step. Jango barely noticed them, focused on his goal. 

It was a simple retrieval job. A spice smuggler had managed to draw unwanted attention to himself and was trying to hide out on Tatooine, hoping to blend in with the rest of the unsavoury characters that populated the planet. Jango was here to bring him in. Dead or alive, the client didn’t really care. 

A part of Jango resented this kind of work. Chasing down a runaway, a smuggler, a nobody. Menial tasks a well-made droid could do. Once, Jango had led his people into glorious battle, once he fought for a cause worth dying for. 

But that had been a long time ago. And now, here he was, scrounging for what work he could just to get off the cold, desolate planet populated by thousands of men baring his own face. 

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. 

Another junk shop came into view and Jango paused a moment before stepping towards it. This was the third such shop he had visited since arriving - his source had told him the target had been spotted in a junk shop in Mos Espa. Which one was a different matter altogether. 

This shop was almost exactly the same as all the others - shelves piled with scrap and junk, a door leading out to the back where larger pieces were kept, a pit droid looking busy in the background. And a fine layer of sand, coating everything in a sheen of dust. Cleaning his armour was going to be a nightmare when Jango returned. 

“< _Hello, what can I do for you?_ >” 

A toydarian flew sluggishly into Jango’s view as he stepped into the store, greeting him in Huttise. Jango forced down a sigh, already knowing that this exchange wasn’t going to be productive. But he had to try, so he pulled up the hologram of his target, the face of a male twi’lek flickering to life. 

“I’m looking for someone. Have you seen him?” 

“What makes you think I have? _”_ the toydarian asked, slipping seamlessly into basic, barely even looking at the hologram. He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed and Jango felt an intense urge to throw a punch. 

“He was seen at a junk shop,” Jango said shortly. “If you have seen him, it would be in your best interests to tell me.” 

“Information like that is valuable. Perhaps if you help me, I can -” 

“I”ll help you by letting you live,” Jango said, stepping closer. The toydarian fluttered back a few paces, flying a little higher so he had some hight on Jango. 

“Haven’t seen him _._ ” The comment was short, and Jango didn’t fail to notice. He was pretty sure the shop owner was lying, but something told Jango he wasn’t lying to protect the target.

“Fine,” Jango said, spinning on his heel. Something was off about this whole job, and Jango didn’t like that. He hated being lied to, and he hated being on Tatooine. This was the last time he was taking a job like this. 

Somehow, deep down, he knew that was a lie. He was a Mandalorian, action was in his blood. Only so much training and rain and sitting around doing nothing on Kamino could keep him happy. He would always need more. 

Voices caught his attention as he exited the junk shop and he glanced in their direction to see a small group of beings, clustered by the edge of the road. There were three of them - a dug, a weequay and a human woman, pressed against the wall. She was holding a basket of scrap parts, her hair pulled back from her face and her clothes marking her out as a slave. 

For a moment, Jango paused, watching the scene with narrowed eyes. Even as he did, the weequay let out a harsh laugh, knocking the basket of parts from her arms. She barely reacted, crouching to pick them up only to find the dug - his foot on the basket - grinning at her. 

That was enough for Jango. He drew his gun in a smooth movement, resisting the urge to burn a hole in the head of the beings. Instead, the blast landed barely an inch away from the dug’s foot. He leapt back with a yelp and Jango spun his pistol, glaring at both of them from behind his helmet. 

“That’s _enough_ ,” he growled, almost wishing they would start a fight. Instead, they did the smart thing, took one look at his armour, his stance, and the growl in his voice and made themselves scarce. Jango nodded once in satisfaction, returning the pistol to his holster. 

“Thank you,” the woman said. She seemed surprisingly unflustered, simply crouching to gather her scattered parts. Jango watched her for a moment, taking her in. She was older than he would expect a slave to be - most didn’t live long. Then again, it was likely she was a little younger than she appeared, the hard life of slavery and rough climate of Tatooine carving her face and hardening her. But there was something about her - a spark that hadn’t quite been snuffed out, a softness that hadn’t been erased by the sharpness of her life. 

“They bother you a lot?” he asked, suddenly glad his helmet hid the fact he had been staring. She paused, looking up at him as she gathered the last of her parts. 

“Sometimes, they usually grow bored after a few minutes.” She pushed hair out of her eyes and stood up, stepping towards him, unafraid. That alone intrigued Jango, her lack of fear, her quiet confidence that hadn’t been beaten down. “I heard you talking to Watto - you’re looking for someone?” 

“Yes, there’s a bounty out for him.” He paused a moment, then pulled up the hologram. She eyed it for a moment, then nodded. 

“Bik Vuzo. I’m not surprised you haven’t had much luck in finding him - he’s under the Hutt’s protection and everyone around here knows it. It’s unlikely you’ll find anyone willing to give you any information about him.” 

“But you will?” Jango asked, sensing the unspoken message. She smiled grimly. 

“I have no love for Hutts or those under their protection,” she said, a hint of hardness in her voice. A pause, she glanced around briefly before speaking. “He visits the slave quarters, most nights. Has quite a liking for one of the twi’lek girls near my quarters.” 

Jango nodded, flicking the hologram off. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I won’t keep you any longer.” The woman nodded, stepping away and moving towards the junk shop Jango had just left. For a moment, he watched her go. Then, abruptly, he turned and walked quickly away, heading towards the slave quarters to scout out the best position to watch for his prey. It felt good to actually be doing something, instead of all the talking and lies thrown in his face. 

  
~*~*~  
  


The heat left the world very quickly after the suns had set. Jango, settled on top of one of the large buildings that housed the slaves, found himself surprisingly cold as the night drew on. 

There hadn’t been much movement since the slaves returned a little before sundown. Jango had remained out of sight, watching as they moved about their daily lives and settled in for the night. Still, Jango waited, as the suns vanished and the night grew cold. 

It was the depths of night, the moon high above his head when Jango noticed something - a flicker of movement in the streets nearby. He didn’t turn to look, watching for it again out of the corner of his eye and flicking on his night vision. 

Sure enough, there was a figure, moving steadily towards the slave quarters. A twi’lek by the look of it - very possibly his target. 

Jango didn’t move outwardly, but he was immediately more alert - not that he hadn’t been before. The figure was moving closer and emerged into the clear space in front of the buildings Jango was hiding out on. 

It was him - Jango knew instantly, and a low smile covered his mouth. Flicking a setting on the sniper rifle he had perched on the roof beside him, he levelled the sights, taking a careful aim. He wouldn’t miss. 

He didn’t miss, but things started to go wrong as soon as he pulled the trigger. 

The stun bolt hit the target square in the chest, dropping him instantly. Almost at the same time, a shout came from nearby, and a light shone directly into Jango’s face. 

He acted instinctively, rolling to his feet and blasting into the air with his jetpack. For a moment, he hovered, trying to gauge what had gone wrong. 

The light was from the opposite building, where a small group of beings were clustered, blasting bolts at Jango. He dodged them deftly, quickly scanning to make sure there weren’t any other beings nearby. Satisfied they were his only opponents, he cut the power to his jetpack, dropping a few meters until he was practically on top of his attackers, whipping out the flame thrower on his wrist at the same moment. 

A sheet of fire exploded from his arm, igniting the beings in flames. Screeches of pain came from them as the group scattered, leaving a few of their comrades who had got the worst of it lying on the roof, flames eating at their clothes. 

Jango climbed again, another blaster bolt flying past him a little too close for comfort. Another flyby of the area told him that these beings were the kind he might expect to find in the employment of a Hutt - clearly, someone had set a trap for him. 

Muttering a curse under his breath, Jango hauled his blaster out of its holster and let off a few shots, narrowing the numbers somewhat. He needed to get out of here - preferable _with_ his target. 

He dropped again, arms close to his side for a streamlined decent, catching himself with the jetpack close to the ground. Moving low, he flew over the motionless form of Vuzo, grabbing him by one arm and blasting into the sky again. More blaster bolts flashed past him, and one slammed into his shoulder, the beskar armour taking the brunt of the blow. 

They were getting more accurate - or maybe Jango was moving slower now that he was carrying someone else. Another shot pinged into his helmet, setting his ears ringing for a moment. Then something hit his jetpack and he felt himself drop a few feet before it spluttered back to life. 

He pulled his blaster out with his spare hand, letting out a number of shots, hearing the satisfying cries of those he downed. Three left. Two left. The last one managed to hit him in the chest, almost causing him to drop his target. 

He swung around, pausing in the air long enough to let another blaster bolt fly. With a scream of pain, the Gamrrean fell forward off the roof he was standing on. 

Not out of danger yet, Jango put more power into his jetpack, but instantly knew something was wrong. It let out a low whine, spluttering and suddenly growing very warm. 

“ _Haar’chak_ ,” Jango muttered, glancing down. He was about two stories above the ground, he would have to risk it. With one smooth movement, he dropped a little lower and released his jetpack. 

The ground came up towards him sickeningly fast, the sky lit up from the jetpack’s explosion behind him. Twisting so the target landed under him, Jango prepared for a rough landing. 

~*~*~

His body was aching, but Jango had the sense to stay completely still as he came to consciousness. For a moment, he lay still, eyes closed, gauging his situation before he made a move. 

Instantly, he could tell he had been moved. His helmet was off, and from the muted sounds and feel of the air, he was inside. A woman’s voice buzzed nearby, the words coming into focus as he came back to his senses. 

“...until he’s able to leave again.” 

“I don’t see how bringing a hooligan like him into the house can be safe!” The second voice that spoke was much louder - a droid with no volume control, by Jango’s guess. 

The conversation continued as Jango slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the low, sandstone roof. He wasn’t restrained in any way, and a brief scan of what he could see of the room told him he was lying on a low bed. An arched doorway led out into another room, where the conversation was finishing. 

“He’s not going to hurt me, 3PO,” the woman said. “I wasn’t going to leave him when he needed help.”

Jango pushed himself to a sitting position with a hiss of pain as his ribs cried out in protest. A flash of relief washed through him as he caught sight of his helmet, placed near the low bed. The rustle of fabric sounded from outside, and a moment later the woman appeared in the doorway. 

Her hair was down now but Jango instantly recognised her as the woman who had given him the tip about where Vuzo would be. For a moment, he narrowed his eyes, wondering if she had set him up. 

“Take it easy,” she said quietly, moving to his side. “I didn’t have time to get your armour off or help with the pain, but I thought it best I brought you inside. Here.” She held out a mug of water, which Jango took hesitantly. 

“How long was I out?” he asked, swirling the water in the mug. The woman shrugged.

“Not long - I only just got you inside.” Jango nodded, studying the water for a moment longer. 

“Why?” he asked finally, looking up at her. She paused, unphased by the question. 

“Because if you stayed out there much longer you would have been caught,” she said simply. Jango frowned, not entirely convinced by her answer. 

“That wouldn’t have affected you.” 

He had long ago learned that you look out for you and your own. As a bounty hunter, he and his mission were what mattered. Putting oneself in danger to help a stranger didn’t make sense. 

A part of him remembered what it was like to be part of a clan that would die for each other - clan that _had_ died for each other - and he wondered when he had gotten so hard. 

“Perhaps not, but the biggest problem in this universe is that nobody helps each other,” she said quietly. 

For a moment, Jango didn’t answer. The response seemed so out of place on a planet like Tatooine, a planet full of bounty hunters and criminals, it surprised him. And from a slave - someone who likely hadn’t been shown any help her whole life. Once again, he was struck by a sense that she was different, bent and damaged by her life, but not quite broken yet.

He nodded sharply in response and took a long sip of the drink, relaxing slightly as it cooled his dry throat. 

“I need to leave,” he said as he placed the empty mug down. “What happened to Vuzo?” He had been sidetracked for long enough, now he needed to keep moving again. The sooner he left with his prey in tow, the sooner he could be back home with Boba. 

“He’s dead,” the woman said. She had begun to move around the room, neatly cleaning a few things and gathering up miscellaneous scraps and parts. “The fall killed him, I had to leave him outside.”

Jango nodded, not hugely upset by the news. A dead target was much easier to handle than an alive one, and his client wasn’t bothered either way. He made to stand, pushing himself off the bed, but his whole body screamed in protest and he hissed in pain, collapsing back. The woman glanced at him in concern, stepping closer to make sure he was alright. 

“Take it easy,” she said. “It might be wise if you stay a little longer, rest some more.” Moving towards the door, she raised her voice and called into the next room. “3PO, have you found the painkillers yet?” 

“I just have, mistress,” came the response, and a droid appeared in the door. It was a humanoid protocol droid, its wires peeking through a roughly cobbled together covering. It was holding a vial, which the woman took from him. 

“Thank you. Here.” She moved to Jango’s side and handed him the vial. “At least stay until the painkillers have started making an effect, otherwise you won’t get far.” 

Jango nodded his thanks, swallowing down the liquid. The appearance of the droid had brought something to his attention that didn’t quite add up. 

“You live here alone?” he asked. A slave house this size would usually house a number of slaves - to only have one living here was unusual. Not to mention a slave who owned a droid.

“Watto allows me a few joys,” she said quietly. “I’ve been here on my own for nearly nine years now.” 

“And the droid?” Despite himself, Jango was becoming more interesting in this quiet, confident woman. 

“My son made it,” she said, and for the first time, Jango thought he saw a slight crack in her confident mask. There was a deep sadness there, grief mingled with hope. “Watto saw no need to sell it.” 

“Your son?” Jango asked. Once again, he felt the homesickness that came upon him every time he left Kamino for any length of time. Not for the planet - he couldn’t care less about the planet - but for the boy waiting for him. 

“Yes.” She leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around her and not meeting his gaze. There was a wistful note to her voice as she spoke, her thoughts clearly on a world far away. “He was taken to be trained as a Jedi, years ago now.” 

Jango was used to the rush of anger he felt whenever the Jedi were mentioned. They brought back too many bad memories, too many emotions of grief and betrayal. 

“Child stealers,” he muttered. Even before he had clashed with the Jedi in person, the stories of their religion had been spoken of with disdain. 

The woman smiled softly, looking back at him. 

“Perhaps some see it like that. But they gave him a better chance at a life than he would have had here.” 

“ _That’s what they want you to believe_ ,” Jango thought, but he didn’t speak aloud. He could understand the pain of losing a son - the thought of anything happening to Boba terrified him more than anything had for a long time. This woman, so used to pain and hurt, was clinging to the last piece of hope she had - the belief that her son was living a better life than she. Jango admired that. 

The thought of Boba spurred him into moving again - he had lingered long enough. With a small grunt of pain, he pushed himself up, glad to find the painkillers had taken the edge off his pain. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, reaching for his helmet. Before either of them could say anything further, the droid appeared in the doorway again, looking surprisingly anxious for a creature without facial features. 

“Misstress Shmi - it appears there are some beings approaching the door,” it said a strange sense of urgency in its voice. Jango and the woman exchanged a glance and then she moved, taking control of the situation with surprising speed. 

“Sit by the wall, here,” she tossed a filthy sheet towards him - clearly used to clean up oil stains. Jango caught it, ducking into the corner and pulling his helmet on. “3PO, stand here and be quiet.”

The droid moved awkwardly to stand in front of Jango as he pulled the sheet over him, covering himself with it. With any luck, a casual observer would just see a pile of scraps, covered by a blanket. 

“I don’t understand, what is it that you want me to do?” The droid was still talking and the woman let out a small noise of frustration. 

“Sorry about this,” she muttered, cutting it off mid-sentence. By the abrupt cutting off of its voice, Jango figured it had been shut down. 

For a moment, the world was silent. Jango slowed his breathing, hoping his presence wouldn’t cause trouble for the woman who had helped him. 

“Hello?” Her voice was muffled, coming from an adjacent room. A muted conversation, half in Huttise, half in Basic followed, Jango only catching every few words. 

“You were seen…” “It _is_ her…” “... don’t understand what you are saying?” “Where is he?” “...been here all evening…” “...Jabba” “...belongs to Watto…” 

The snatches of the conversation he caught weren’t promising - Jango was becoming increasingly sure they were asking after him. She had been seen speaking to him earlier in the day and was a suspect because of it. 

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice was much louder now, and Jango tense, shifting to move to her aid on instinct. But something stopped him - years of looking after himself and himself alone. He didn’t need to care about her - his target was nearby, he could bag and run. Leave this accused dustball, get his money, and return to Boba. Forget about the woman - she had chosen to help him, knowing the consequences. 

“Jabba will want to know why one of the beings under his protection is now dead,” a voice came drifting to Jango’s hearing. That was another thing - he didn’t want to get drawn into any Hutt politics. Paying Jabba a visit was the last thing he wanted to do. 

He heard them leave. He heard them leave and waited, counting to a hundred to make sure they were fully gone. Then, slowly, he threw the sheet off himself, scrambling to his feet and moving past the deactivated droid standing in front of him. 

The house was very quiet. For a moment, he stood, glancing around at the few belongings the woman had been allowed to keep. Part of him wondered if any of the strange items perched on the shelf in the corner of the room had belonged to her son. If anything was junk she would have long ago thrown out but for the boy who had given it to her. 

“Focus,” he muttered to himself. He had a job to do - the bounty was good pay and he needed to get home. Needed to get back to Boba. The woman didn’t concern him. 

He moved quickly through the small house, forcing himself not to pay any attention to the small, personal details. Once outside, he paused, scanning for any threats. 

It was his fault she had been taken away. 

The voice that spoke was small but persistent. And part of him knew it was right. If he had never come to this cursed planet, if he had never spoken to her, if he had never accepted her help she wouldn’t be in trouble. It was his fault. 

But she knew. She knew what the dangers were when she helped him. 

For a moment the memory of the whips was painfully clear. Without even realising, he was rubbing his wrists where the scars still reminded him that he had more in common with the slave woman than he wanted to admit. The same, quiet, persistent voice that refused to let him forget he was a Mandalorian refused to let him leave her to her fate. 

“ _Haar’chak,_ ” he muttered, for the second time that evening, and began moving quickly in pursuit of the small party. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, thanks for reading this! I want to quickly say some stuff because this is the first thing I've done like this and I wanna talk about it!
> 
> 1) I Am Not a romance writer. I am very much a platonic/familial relationship gal. However, this ship kicked down my door and REFUSED TO LEAVE a couple months back so I guess I'm doing this now. My intent is to write a full, idk how many words but a lot, slow-burn romance. (nothing like... sexy tho sorry to disappoint I don't write that this is staying Teen rated for violence) I actually have the ending planned, so that's something new for me as well! But bare with me as I figure this out.
> 
> 2) I want to use this as an excuse to explore Mandalorian culture, and specifically the Mando'a language cos it's FUN (for instance all my chapter names are going to be in Mando'a). That being said, I am by no means fluent and am relying on dictionaries/wikis so please let me know if I make any mistakes, but be nice!
> 
> 3) I do want to keep the chapter lengths semi-consistent, but that does mean they'll probably take a while to write. (this one took me like... a month?) Bare with me, I shall do my best!
> 
> 4) I have a Tumblr! Come say hi over @star-wars-stories. I've got another couple stories that might tide you over until the next chapter.
> 
> Okay, I'm going to stop talking now but thank you for reading!


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